


13. Adrenaline

by titC



Series: Whumptober 2019 [13]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Allergies, F/M, Gen, Hospital, anaphylactic shock, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20819147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: It started at a restaurant.





	13. Adrenaline

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Whumptober](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) for organizing it and [PixelByPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/) for the beta!  
Also fills my MattElektraBingo prompt _first aid_ and the MattElektraShiptober prompt _Tingle_.

Matt wakes up in a hospital bed.

He pretends he is still unconscious at first, but he can tell Elektra is right by his side and that she isn’t fooled.

“Ehn?” Oh. He can't speak. His lips, his tongue, his entire mouth feel too big and heavy, and there’s a slight wheeze in his breathing.

“Welcome back, Matthew.”

He takes stock of his situation: hospital smells, IV lines, beeps, scratchy bedsheets… His skin is on fire, his chest aches, his head is killing him, and his stomach is painful as if he’s had cramps for hours. “Wha…?”

“You almost died.” Her voice is cool and poised, but her fingers are squeezing his wrist. There is an IV in his arm and a sensor of some sort around his pointer. “What do you remember?”

His brain is sluggish but he tries to get it away from other, older memories of being laid up on a hospital bed and more into the present. They went to a restaurant, a small but classy one she heard about and insisted they try. A lot of it was dishes he’s never had before, mostly fancy seafood and things he’s never even heard of or thought could be turned into something one could eat. They even had a Braille menu.

It was all delicious.

His mouth started tingling halfway through the meal, but he wasn’t worried. Not yet. It was almost pleasant, and he thought the chef had put something fizzly in the fish sauce to make it more interesting. 

Elektra loves that kind of restaurant, and while he isn’t as comfortable in those places as she is her enjoyment makes it worthwhile. She’s in her element; he’s too Catholic for that but _she_ is a hedonist, living life to the fullest whether it’s drinking fine wine or fighting her way out of a mêlée. And he’s learning from her, too.

But then something went wrong, and he struggles to recall more than the initial tingling and the growing discomfort he tried to ignore until it turned into a full body riot. “Ow,” he manages. Sort of.

“Did you know you had food allergies?” she asks.

“Nuh.” His lips won’t round enough to form the proper _oh_ sound.

“Well, now you do.”

This is ridiculous; he should have been able to control his body’s reactions. Stick would be ashamed of him. He’s never been allergic to anything; why start now? If his face could respond properly, he’d frown.

“You… don’t ever do that again, Matthew.” Well, he isn’t planning on it, whatever _that_ is. “The doctors said you were lucky another patron at the restaurant carried an EpiPen with her. She stabbed you with it; it kept you breathing until the ambulance arrived.”

“Home.” It sounds like _ham_. “Leave?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He wants to whine, but it’s probably too childish. He’s a responsible adult who wants to be _anywhere but here_. He hates hospitals.

The door opens and someone comes in, smelling of antiseptics and latex. “Mr. Murdock,” the woman says. “I’m Dr. Nabi.”

He makes a sound that could be generously interpreted as _Hello_, and grips Elektra’s hand when the doctor asks her to leave. “Nuh. Steh.”

Dr. Nabi proceeds to tell him about further tests to narrow down the cause, about EpiPens and anaphylactic shock and how it’s a miracle he’s alive. “You’ll have to carry one with you at all times,” she says.

Hah. No way.

“I’ll make sure he does.” And Elektra is a traitor. “Matthew, stop pouting.” He’s _not_, his face is just like that right now. The swelling is going to go down, right? “I do not want you to die. I am also not fond of the puffy look, of the rash and hives everywhere, or of having to watch you choke to death. Do you understand?”

He sighs.

“On the bright side it’s probably something that’s easy to avoid,” the doc goes on. “Your partner said you’ve never had that kind of reaction before. You’ll have to schedule an appointment with an allergist, preferably soon. The restaurant sent the list of foodstuffs they were working with, so my colleague would start with testing that and move on from there.”

Matt makes a vaguely assent-y sound and tunes out the rest of the doctor’s words; he’s just too tired and cranky and uncomfortable even if he seems to slowly, so slowly, get better. Or rather less horrible.

“When can we leave?” Elektra asks. _Thank you_.

“We’d like to keep him under observation for a few more hours in case of a secondary reaction, but tomorrow morning is fine.”

This time, Matt whines. _Tomorrow morning?_

“It’s not even midnight, Mr. Murdock.” The doc sounds amused. Matt is not. “I’m sure you can wait, say, seven or eight hours to make sure you don’t die.”

“He can and he will.” Her hand in his doesn’t move, even when he tries to stab her palm with his nails. They’re too short to hurt.

“Mr. Murdock?”

Elektra’s hand finally move and _her_ nails dig into his skin.

“Yeah, ‘k.”

Dr. Nabi pats his ankle and bustles out soon after, already focused on other patients. They’re finally alone, even if he can hear and smell and just _feel_ all the pain and death around him. And the memories. He doesn’t want the memories right now; he’s already feeling like crap.

“You scared me,” Elektra says very softly. She knows he’ll hear. “It’s such a stupid way to die.”

“No good way to die,” and he’s happy he’s already more intelligible.

“So pointless. So…”

“I know.” He remembers when she died in his arms, and he doesn’t _want_ to remember. They both need cheering up. “I was _stabbed_,” he (kind of) says.

“It was only some light, life-saving stabbing, Matthew.” She’s smiling now, he can hear it. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Aw.”

Foggy would be horrified by their jokes, but that’s how they work, he and Elektra. And he sure hopes they’ll go on making stupid stabbing jokes for a long time… so, fine, maybe he’ll get that EpiPen after all.


End file.
